“SETH ROWAN!”
My lips curve into a grin before I can stop them.
“You bastard! Get over here!”
The soldiers falter in their formations, heads swiveling to locate the source of the shouting. I can see the confusion on their faces—who would dare speak to their commander like that?
I turn slowly, and the sight that greets me sends satisfaction surging through my veins.
Selene is storming toward me like an avenging angel, her auburn hair whipping behind her, her face flushed with fury. Despite the afternoon heat, she’s wearing a high-necked blouse—one that covers her throat completely—paired with jeans that hug every curve of her body. My grin widens as I take in the deliberate choice of clothing. The high neck. She’s covering the marks I left on her skin, the hickeys I sucked into her throat, the evidence of everything we did last night.
She’s hiding me.
But damn, she looks good. The anger in her eyes, the way she moves with purpose, the curves that blouse and those jeans outline perfectly…My mate is beautiful when she’s furious. This isn’t the meek, trembling woman I thought I knew. This is someone else entirely.
And I can’t look away.
“Dismissed,” I call to my soldiers without taking my eyes off her.
They hesitate, still staring at the small woman marching toward their commander like she’s ready for war.
“I said, dismissed!” The command cracks through the air, and they scatter.
Selene closes the distance between us, and I watch with growing fascination as her hands partially shift, claws extending from her fingertips. My wolf perks up with interest, almost pleased by the display of aggression.
“You conniving jerk!” she snarls, lunging at me with those extended claws. “I’m going to kill you!”
I duck under her swipe, stifling a laugh. “We should probably discuss this.”
“Once you’re dead,” she hisses, spinning for another attack, “I’ll discuss it with your tombstone!”
A few lingering soldiers watch from a distance, and I jerk my head toward the barracks. “Disperse. Now.”
They scramble to obey as Selene comes at me again. I dodge, then sidestep another strike, my body moving instinctually. She’s faster than I expected, more coordinated. Where’s the weakness that I thought defined her? Where’s the tremblinguncertainty?
This woman is trying to take my head off, and I’m enjoying every second of it.
She lunges once more, and this time I catch her wrists, whirl her around in a full circle, and pin her against the stone wall of the training hall. Her hands are trapped above her head, my body pressed against hers, our eyes locked on each other’s.
I’m breathless. And more than a little turned on.
“Let me go,” she demands, struggling against my grip.
“So you can beat me up?” I lean in, close enough to smell the rage and something sweeter underneath it. “I don’t think so.”
Her eyes flash with fury. “You’re a horrible person. The mating mark? You gave me your mating mark?” Her voice rises with each word, shaking with barely contained rage. “I’m going to rip your head off!”
The words should alarm me, but instead, I find myself pulling down the collar of my training tunic with my free hand, exposing the mark on my shoulder—the one her own teeth left last night. The bite is deep, possessive, unmistakably claiming.
“You marked me first,” I point out, my voice rough. “I just returned the favor. If anything, this is your fault.”
Her eyes widen as they fix on the mark, and I watch all the color drain from her face. The fury bleeds away into something else entirely—horror, disbelief, shock. Her lips part, but no sound comes out at first.
“You’re lying.” Her voice is weak now, barely above a whisper, trembling with each syllable. “I didn’t—I wouldn’t—”
“You did.” I keep my tone even, factual. “Your wolf marked me. Right here.” I gesture to the bite on my shoulder. “And then, mine marked you back.”
“No.” She shakes her head frantically, her voice still that awful, broken whisper. “You’re lying. You have to be lying.”
